Vengeance
by QTR
Summary: Rewrite of Grudges. She stared at her reflection through the metal blade of the knife she held in her hand. Sara Sidle was going to pay. GSR. Chapter 7 now up.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is the re-write of _Grudges_. I would like to thank lostinthought3 for their encouragement in re-writing this story. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!**

**Prologue**

_10 years ago_

Why were policemen coming into her family's house? Young eleven-year-old Monica Stevens did not know why. Had one of her parents done something wrong? No, that couldn't have been it, Monica knew for a fact that her parents were always very careful. So...did that mean it was her big brother that had gotten into trouble?

"Jay!" she yelled, running down the stairs from her bedroom window, her curtains closing to cover the light from the flashing police cars. Running down the stairs to her brother's bedroom, she gasped when she saw her brother being taken away in handcuffs.

Not Jay. Not her big brother. It couldn't be happening.

"Jay!" she said again, running over to him. The police were slow to restrain her. "Jay, what's happening?"

"...It's okay, Mona," he said to her, looking down at her with a small but not reassuring smile. "It's going to be okay."

"N-No, Jay, what's happening?" she asked again, starting to panic. She didn't like his arms being handcuffed behind his back, or the look the police officers were giving him. They looked at him like he was pathetic; scum. "Jay, what happened?" she asked again.

"It's okay, Mona," he assured her.

Why wasn't he telling her what was going on?

"Jay, are you going to jail?" she asked, inwardly cringing at the thought.

"...Yeah, I might be going away for a little way, Sis," he told her. "...See ya..."

"No, Jay!" she yelled, throwing her arms around his legs and squeezing them tightly. "You can't go! I won't let them take you!" she screamed.

A young woman in her mid-thirties walked into the room. She had brown hair that fell just below her shoulders, resting just above the word 'FORENSICS' on her black jacket. With a sigh, she removed her sunglasses from her face, resting them on top of her head. "...We're going to need to process inside, Captain's got a warrant," she explained.

One of the officers nodded and they began to lead Monica's brother out of the house. Jay sneered and looked over at the woman with a sadistic grin on his face. "I could do you everyday," he smirked.

"Get him out of here," the captain of the police team ordered.

"NO!" Monica screamed, holding onto her brother's legs. What was it that he said before? Something about 'doing' the woman standing next to her everyday? Do what? "You can't take him!"

"...Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid your brother is going to have to come with us for a little while," the woman from before said. She had kneeled down as the officers pried her away from her brother- practically having to get a cro-bar to do so- and she put one hand on the girl's shoulder to try and comfort her.

"Sidle, over here," the captain from before said. The woman immediately got to her feet and walked over to him. "What did your supervisor say?"

"To go ahead and process the scene," she sighed. "As long as we've got a warrant, the house and everything in it is ours."

"Excellent," he said. "Meet you back at the station for the interrogation?"

"Sure," she said, grabbing a rather large metal box from off the ground.

"...Good luck, Sara," he sighed, walking off to his own car.

Sara nodded and walked over to the front door of the house, taking one step inside.

Monica watched this woman in disbelief. Her brother was being taken away, didn't away care? And why weren't they telling her what was going on?

"Jay, no!" she yelled again, running toward the patrol car the officers were currently loading him into. A hand on her upper right forearm restrained her, and she turned around to see the brown-haired woman from before holding onto her arm, her grip tight but gentle. "Why are you doing this?" she yelled.

"...Sweetheart...your older brother...has done something very, very bad," Sara explained.

"I don't care, he probably didn't mean to!" Monica yelled. Turning around, she watched as the car drove off. "NO! JAY, COME BACK! COME BACK WITH MY BROTHER!"

"Sweetheart, calm down.." Sara said softly.

Monica's effort to tear her arm from this woman's grip was futile. Instead, she turned around and threw some punches at her, landing blows to her long legs. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! HE WAS SORRY, HE DIDN'T MEAN TO DO ANYTHING AND YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE HIM GO TO AN AWFUL PLACE!"

Sara looked down at the little girl, her eyes and face calm. "...Your big brother made a bad choice, Monica," she said, remembering the name of the girl. "...And he has to pay the consequences of his actions...he did something very terrible." She didn't know exactly how she was making raping and killing three women into just something 'very terrible', but at the moment she wasn't in the mood- nor was it the proper situation- for more technical terms.

"NO HE DIDN'T, HE WAS THE BEST BROTHER IN THE WORLD, HE NEVER DID ANYTHING WRONG!" Monica screamed. This woman wasn't getting it. And why was she trying to hold her and tell her everything was okay? Nothing was okay. She was never going to see her brother again and that was okay to this woman?

It was all this woman's fault. Monica and her brother knew about telling on people for bad things they did, but they never, _ever_ snitched to someone about something someone did. And this woman told on her big brother.

"I HATE YOU!" Monica screamed, clawing at Sara's face. Her hand made contact with her cheek and her nails scraped across it, just below her left eye.

An officer saw this and quickly drug a thrashing Monica away from Sara, keeping a tight grip on her arm.

"YOU BITCH! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! YOU TOOK MY BROTHER AWAY!" Monica screamed.

Sara just sighed as the captain ran up to her. "What happened? I was on my way out and I saw her just...claw at you!"

"Well, that's what happened," Sara said. "Well, I can tell Big Brother's colorful vocabulary rubbed off on his little sister."

The captain rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Yeah."

**Present Day- **_10 years later_

Throwing a long strand of black hair out of her eyes, Monica adjusted her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, staring at the doors of the Las Vegas Crime Lab through her car window. Looking up at the dashboard, she spotted something in particular and picked it up, holding it gingerly in her hand. Tightening her grip on the object, a blade quickly slid out of the black handle and she narrowed her eyes, staring at her reflection in the metal.

Sara Sidle was going to pay.


	2. Welcome to the Las Vegas Crime Lab

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! I've had writer's block for this story (which is strange because it's a re-write…), but I want to thank you all for you r encouragement :)**

Sara Sidle was exhausted; this was one of the rare days going home to her empty apartment actually seemed appetizing. An empty, quiet, clean, cozy apartment… she just wanted to curl up in her bed under rows and rows of blankets, sleep with at least four pillows to ensure absolute comfort, fall asleep and never wake up. Sara wasn't looking forward to coming into work today which wasn't normal for the workaholic. But today getting up at 6:30 am to the sound of a too-cheerful-sounding radio broadcaster talking about how they were going to be playing Celine Dion's Greatest Hits all day long did not excite Sara, a woman who was always enthusiastic about her work as a criminalist.

Sara knew she looked horrible, perhaps worse than she did the day Catherine called her and told her they needed her to come in on her first day off in three weeks. Sara didn't only look exhausted… she looked like the walking-dead. She was going to be on top of Greg and Nick's joke list for the day, she knew. She considered taking Greg up on his offer to Nick for a valium- sleep sounded absolutely wonderful. The Garden of Eden for Sara at this moment was sleep.

After going through the drive-through at one of the Starbucks close to the lab, Sara headed off to the lab. Really, she was surprised how she could even form a coherent sentence being as tired as she was. She thought the person working the drive-through wouldn't understand what she meant by ordering a 'vempa cobbee cabbuppino' with 'fwee fwots', but obviously she made pretty good sense to be in and out of there so quickly. On her way to the lab Sara gulped that coffee down as fast as she could, wanting to at least wake up before stepping foot in the lab.

Parking her car and getting out with a now-cold vente Starbucks coffee cup in her hand, Sara took off her sunglasses and looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. She just rolled her eyes- she looked like a raccoon; the circles under her eyes were so dark. Grabbing her bag and jacket, she closed and locked up the door- which she was surprised she even remembered to do being so tired- and headed toward the glass double-doors leading into the lab. Spotting a trash can by the door, she threw her cup away and walked inside, watching as lab-techs ran from lab to lab with papers and beakers in their hands.

Sara headed to the locker room and sighed in relief as she found it empty. She had avoided Nick and Greg for now, and she wasn't looking forward to even seeing Catherine at this point (she wasn't in the mood for her motherly lectures). Opening her locker, Sara threw her things inside, not caring if she messed up anything she had organized at the moment, and slammed the door behind her, heading off to the break room to wait for assignments. Unfortunately, the entire team minus Grissom was inside.

As soon as Sara walked through the door Catherine was looking at her. "Hi… Sara…"

"Hi…" Sara mumbled. "And before you even say it, I'll be okay, I just have to wake up," she told her, shooting her a small smile for reassurance. "I just didn't get a lot of sleep is all… and then my stupid alarm clock woke me up."

"…Okay," Catherine said, shrugging. "Though I wasn't going to say anything," she told her, shooting her a small grin.

"…All I'm saying is that Heihachi is stronger in Tekken 3 than…" Sara heard a bit of Nick and Greg's conversation.

"No, no, that's not right," Nick said, shaking his head in disagreement. "You see, he's never been the strongest character."

Greg scoffed. "Says the man who plays as the chicks."

"Hey!" Nick said. "They move faster than the guys, okay? That's why I'm always the girls, so lay off."

"Oh, _they_ move faster or their heaving cleavage—" Greg was about to say when Catherine interrupted.

"Alright boys, that's enough," she told them, rolling her eyes as she watched Sara walk over to the pot of coffee.

"You're going to brave it, huh?" Warrick asked Sara, finally making the fact that he was sitting in the room as well more apparent.

"Yeah, well…" Sara sighed, "I got a large Starbucks coffee on the way here, but… that didn't last long," she said, getting down a mug from the cabinets.

"Whoa!" Greg said, finally getting a good look at Sara. "Hello! Did you just walk out of a George Romero movie?"

"Ha, ha…" Sara mumbled, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Yes I know I look like crap, Gregory, so nice of you to share that to the rest of the class," she told him with a hostile smile as she sat down beside Catherine, grabbing some sugar packets to pour into the cup.

"So…" Nick said, finally adding his two cents, "Fellow criminalists and zombie," he said, grinning at Sara, "Have you heard about the new lab-tech?"

"New lab-tech?" Sara asked, choosing to ignore Nick's pervious comment.

"Yeah, you didn't hear?" Warrick asked. "DNA, right?"

"Those DNA techs and coming and going," Catherine said, "Greg, it looks like we're having a hard time filling your shoes."

Greg just grinned, bowing slightly. "Well, you know, no one can quite beat Mr. Greg Sanders in his own game. DNA is my specialty."

"And just how do you specialize in DNA?" Nick asked, "All you do is sit there and blast music down the halls."

"It's a lot more complicated than that, young grasshopper," Greg explained.

"So anyways," Sara said, "Who's this new lab-tech?"

"I heard she's only 21-years-old," Greg said, turning to face Sara, "She graduated from school early and went to college at 16," he said with a smile, looking up at the ceiling. "I bet she's really pretty. You know, smart girls are sexy."

Catherine just laughed. "Oh?"

"Yeah!" Greg said, "She's got a BS in DNA evidence collection and analysis from Hanford University," he said. "I can just picture her now… long black hair, hot pink lips… long legs, nice body…"

"Down boy," Warrick grinned.

"Small feet, fair complexion…" Greg continued, "Tiny hands and feet… big eyes…"

The sound of Grissom clearing his throat in the doorway of the break room made Greg jump as he continued on about how he thought this new lab-tech would look. Turning around, Greg shot him a crooked-looking smile. "Hey Boss!"

"I want you guys to meet our new DNA lab-tech," Grissom said, stepping out of the doorway. "Greg, I want you to show her around."

A woman about 5'5" walked through the doorway. She had big green eyes that were magnified by her black-framed glasses that rested on the bridge of her nose, and her black hair was tied in a neat bun atop the back of her head. Despite her age she wore very professional-looking clothes; a white button-up shirt and black slacks.

"Sure!" Greg said with a grin, excited as the woman was obviously fairly attractive. "What did I tell you?" he whispered to Nick and Warrick. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" Greg offered to the woman. "Cost $40 a pound, but you know… I'm a man who enjoys a good big cup of coffee," he said with a grin, winking at the woman.

"No thanks," she answered, finally getting a chance to speak. "My name is Monica Stevens," she said, "21-years-old, BS in DNA analysis and—"

"Yes, we all heard," Catherine said, getting up from her seat. "Very impressive," she added, extending her hand for a friendly shake. "I'm Catherine Willows; nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," Monica agreed, shaking Nick and Warrick's hands as well. Greg tried to go in for 'the hug' as business employees often called the greeting, but she wasn't interested and turned it down, settling for a polite shake of the hand instead.

"Nice to meet you," Sara finally said, getting up from her seat in the break room and setting her coffee mug down on the table. Extending her hand out to her, she smiled, "I'm Sara Sidle."

Monica hesitated before taking her hand, shaking it slowly. "…Nice to meet you…" she said, staring at her for a long moment.

"Grissom, what are our assignments?" Sara then asked, turning to look at him, back to business.

_Bitch doesn't even recognize me,_ Monica thought. Good, then; she would be able to use that to her advantage. If Sara didn't recognize little Monica Stevens from ten years before, she could gain the trust of her coworkers without having to worry about Sara squealing about how her brother was a convicted sex offender and murderer currently still spending time in the state prison in San Francisco.

But soon that would all change.


	3. Dinner With An Escort

**A/N: God I'm so horrible for not updating this one. I've just had such major writer's block for it. But I'm hoping to finish it soon! In this story Grissom and Sara's relationship has already been established. Thanks everyone for reading :)**

Sara walked down the hallway in a huff, a little more than exasperated; Grissom had confined her to the lab for the duration of the day. How much that angered her… a little was a huge understatement and a lot wasn't quite the word she was looking for. She hated being cooped up in the lab because she had a horrible tendency to get a little stir-crazy, and sitting in the break room with a cup of coffee listening to the police scanner about what was going on around her that she couldn't see definitely didn't help.

And the worst part was Grissom _knew_ that it irritated her. Oh did he know… The last time he had intentionally done it just to see that cute little stubborn look on her face he had slept on the couch. In his own home.

Oh he was going to get it now, Sara knew. Just wait until tonight- he's going to be sorry he ever—then something caught Sara's attention- the sound of breaking glass in one of the labs. Flipping around on her heels Sara turned and saw the DNA lab was closest. It had to come from there.

"Is everyone okay?" she asked, walking through the doorway. She didn't see any broken glass, only the figure of their newest DNA tech slumped over one of the work tables. "Hi Monica," Sara greeted her with a wide smile, "How's your first day? I hope Greg didn't leave any of his Playboys in here…" Among other things, she knew.

The younger woman seemed to tense, the gesture almost inhuman to Sara as she turned and looked at her. She looked less than enthused to see Sara there. Sara, though, had been given that look a lot in her lifetime. "What?" There was that hostility to her tone again.

"How's everything?" Sara tried again, trying to peer around her to see what she was working on. "I'm guessing Catherine already told you her stuff is on the top of the priority list."

"…Yeah." What was the matter with this girl, Sara thought? She wasn't one to judge other people but there was something peculiar about her. She was like that shy girl at school who never uttered a word and got picked on for it.

"Well if you need any help with anything, I'm in the lab today," Sara offered, "Grissom confined me to the lab, damn him," she added with a small chuckle. Monica did not laugh. Not even a flinch. "I guess I'll see you later, then," Sara told her.

Monica nodded, facing away from Sara and shooting the wall (and Archie who was unfortunately in her line of fire) the coldest glare she could muster. In her hand was a glass beaker she had forgotten about and her fist was clenching it with a death grip until it finally crunched into pieces.

"You're bleeding," Sara softly told her. She then noticed the liquid dripping from her hands that had been in the beaker, and offered, "Here, let me help you. I've gotten that stuff all over me before and it's a pain to get out. It ruined one of my favorite shirts," _Grissom's favorite, actually, _"Just follow me to the—"

"Shut up," Monica hissed.

Sara immediately grew silent, staring at her blankly. Did she hear her right? Up until this point Sara had assured herself that Monica was just one of those people who didn't trust people easily- she was one of them herself. But now she knew that Monica Stevens definitely did not like Sara Sidle.

"Please leave," Monica said, reaching over for a paper towel near the sink. She could clean the damned mess up by herself- she didn't need her there to baby her just because she was younger.

"Okay," Sara dumbly said, turning around and heading for the locker room. Well that was… awkward to say the least, she thought. She felt as though she had made her first enemy working at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, Catherine and Warrick had quickly become good friends of hers shortly after their little arguments when she first came.

Shaking it off though, she walked into the locker room and walked to the locker that belonged to her, clicking the lock off of it and opening it up. Inside she had a small mirror which she fixed so it was straight. Straightening out the sides of her hair, she let out a long sigh. _You look like hell._

"You look exhausted," came Grissom's voice. She turned around and saw him standing just inside the doorway.

She shot him a small grin. "Well thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"Look," he sighed, putting a hand on his hip, "I know you're mad that I kept you in the lab today but I did it because I know you're tired. You didn't come to bed last night."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were asleep."

"Assume nothing, Ms. Sidle," he simply replied, "So how about you accompany me to an early dinner and then you go home and get some rest?" he asked.

Sara pondered this for a moment even though she knew her reply already. "Well… let's see- a dinner with Gil Grissom, possibly hours if not more talk about the wonders of entomology in the line of forensics, how baseball is undeniably the best sport—"

"It's a beautiful game," Grissom cut her off with a smile.

Sara cracked a smile in his direction, one of the ones only Grissom saw. "I think I could live with that."

Unbeknownst to them, Monica was watching from the DNA lab, dropping ten or more droplets of water onto a dry slide sample when she should've only dropped one. She was too distracted by the exchange. She couldn't believe it- they were in a relationship? Why did _she_ get to be in a relationship? Like hell she deserved it! That bitch had ruined her life and had taken her only guardian away from her. Did she even _know _what those people did to her in foster care?

"Good," Grissom said, "Meet me at my office in ten minutes," he told her. Then walking toward her, he sniffed the air. "You smell, dear," he whispered in her ear.

Sara playfully swatted at him, shooting him a look. "Well if someone hadn't made me work overtime last night…"

"Point taken," Grissom said, turning to walk out, "Ten minutes!" he called over his shoulder.

Once Grissom was gone, Sara lifted up her shirt sleeve and sniffed, cringing. "God, I _do_ smell," she mumbled. She hadn't been able to take a shower the day before because Grissom had used up all of the hot water when she had gotten home (the man liked his showers hot, Sara had learned) and she was running late this morning. Reaching into her locker, Sara pulled out a clean shirt and walked around the corner to change in privacy.

After she was changed, had drowned herself in far too much perfume and had put a new change of shoes on Sara headed down the hallway toward Grissom's office. When she reached his office she stopped inside the doorway, knocking to get his attention.

"Punctual as always," Grissom said, turning around and looking at her. "I like that shirt," he told her, turning off the light and walking past her.

"I thought you liked the shirt I ruined," Sara said, raising an eyebrow as she looked around trailing behind him.

"That one was ruined, I had to pick a new favorite shirt to like," Grissom informed her as they walked past the DNA lab.

"I see," Sara said. Then she noticed something strange- Monica was no longer in the DNA lab. It was the day-shift DNA tech now, complaining about pieces of shattered glass littering the floor. Where was she?

"Are you coming?" Grissom's voice brought her back to reality. There was a hint of impatience to it and she looked up and he was already at the door, propping it open for her.

"Sorry," Sara told him with an apologetic smile, walking out the door with him behind her. "I was just thinking."

They walked down the sidewalk to Grissom's Denali and got inside, driving off to their destination. But they didn't notice the car trailing behind them.

**TBC**


	4. Pain

**A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I apologize for the wait in updates, my grandpa recently got into a car accident and that gave us quite a scare (thankfully he's just fine, but the car sure isn't!). Hope you enjoy this new chapter!**

Oh this was a tough decision indeed…

Monica looked upon her extensive knife collection with eager eyes. She was excited and determined but she dare not rush herself. This had to be perfect.

Should she use the black-handled serrated edge single-blade or the ivory-handled stainless steel serpentine jack? Decisions, decisions. No, she wasn't going to waste such a beautiful knife on such a person. She was going to use _that_ knife. The one knife he used that would make this the most haunting and traumatic experience of Sara Sidle's entire life.

Soon she would suffer what she had to suffer.

"I'm still so sorry, honey," Grissom's apologetic tone of voice but sweet but starting to become a bit redundant as he helped Sara out of the restaurant, a steadying hand resting on her back.

"Its okay, Grissom," she assured him, wiping her mouth off with her sleeve. "Just… don't talk about the mating rituals of the dung beetle again during dinner, okay?" she asked him, scrunching her face up in grossed remembrance.

"Deal," Grissom told her as he led her to his Denali in the parking lot. "Are you sure you don't want me to pick you up something to eat, though? You didn't get much to eat at dinner…"

"Ugh, no food," she quickly shook her head in protest, "I can't stand the thought of food right now," she told him, fighting back the bile forming in her throat again as he unlocked the car and she got inside. "I appreciate the sentiment though," she told him, shooting him one of her wry smiles.

He cracked a smile in her direction and joined her in the car, getting buckled and backing the car out of the parking lot. "I just apologize for ruining such a nice evening," he explained, "You know how I am… I don't want to be this way anymore. I want to do something right for a change."

"Be what way?" Sara asked, shooting a confused look in his direction.

"I want to do something right… take you out to a nice romantic dinner, take you to see the sights, sit under the stars with you and not make a fool out of myself," he explained, not noticing the car following behind them, "I always manage to screw everything up."

"Grissom…" Sara started, shaking her head, "No one's perfect. I just vomited on our waiter tonight. Don't you think I feel pretty stupid right now?"

"But I caused that, honey," Grissom pointed out.

"But I don't care," Sara told him, "I may not be into bugs as much as you are, but it's what makes you, you. And personally…" she added, reaching over and putting a tender hand on his shoulder. "I think it's really cute."

He flashed her a real smile as he pulled up in her apartment complex parking lot. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" he asked her.

"Positive," she answered, "I'll be fine, I'm just going to relax for a little while, take a shower. I'll be over at your place later, I needed to grab more clothes," she said, leaning over the seat and pecking him on the cheek. "I'm a fan of your t-shirts, but…"

"I understand," he smiled, "Get some rest."

"I will," she called over her shoulder as she got out of the car and walked onto the sidewalk outside. "Go catch some bad guys!"

With a nod Grissom turned the car around and drove off. She stayed standing on the pavement looking after him for a few moments until he disappeared around the corner and she turned and headed for her apartment. It was times like these she was thankful she had an apartment on the first floor, she was exhausted and a mango chutney salad and dung beetle mating rituals did not sit well together in her stomach.

With a sigh she unlocked her door and stepped inside, throwing her bag and jacket on the floor as she opened her mouth wide with a tired yawn. She just wanted to take a shower and go to sleep.

When she had disappeared into her apartment, the scowl that had been on Monica's face slowly turned into a sneer of excitement. She just had to wait a little longer now. She just had to wait a little bit longer and then she would experience true pain.

Humming along to some song she had heard in the radio in the car one day Sara emerged from the shower wrapped in a long white towel heading to her bedroom in search of some comfortable clothes. After picking out a simple pair of old gray sweats she had bought god-knows-how long ago and a tank top she got dressed and walked toward the kitchenette to get something to drink.

She inspected the contents of her refrigerator with a sigh. She reached inside and grabbed a beer from a leftover six-pack now reduced to four, scolding herself as she did so. Bad Sara. She knew she shouldn't have it, especially after the dinner fiasco earlier that night but she really wanted it. And she knew it would help her sleep better.

She hadn't told Grissom but the last case they had was one of those she knew would haunt her the second she arrived at the scene. It had been a bloody mess- the air was thick with the smell of iron and the walls and floors of the house had been painted a ghastly shade of red. A man had completely lost it and had slaughtered his entire family before killing himself. He killed his wife, his two sons and daughter all in cold blood.

The two sons were well into their teen years.

The daughter had been seven-years-old.

The little girl's autopsy had revealed that she was being abused by her father, which only made Sara's nightmares become more real and terrifying.

Heading into the living room, she sat down on the couch and opened her guilty pleasure, taking a long sip. God it seemed like forever since she had last had a beer. She hadn't been home lately and the six-pack she had kept in her fridge was something she kept out of a spite. She wanted to remind herself of her achievement and that she wasn't going to give into temptation… but tonight, just for tonight, she was going to take a free pass, not pass Go and not collect $200.

Just one wouldn't hurt.

Three and a half beers later Sara was cursing herself for keeping that damned beer in the fridge and at the same time rejoicing that she was slowly forgetting the events of that haunting case. But lifting the fourth beer up lazily to take another sip, she jumped when she heard the doorbell ring and it fell to the floor, its contents slowly pouring out onto the carpet.

Sara immediately tried to sober herself up enough to answer the door. _Come on Sara, get a grip. _She wasn't very steady on her feet and she probably slurred her words a little but she was sober enough to form a coherent thought: _Please don't be Grissom._ Oh she didn't need his condescending speech right now…

After using the walls for support to head to the front door, she opened it without looking in the peephole. When the door opened she was confused and it immediately sobered her right up. "Monica?"

The other woman outside her door did not say a word.

"What are you doing here so late?" Sara asked her, noticing the look on her face. It was relentless, full of rage and anger and hatred which only served to confuse Sara even more. "Is everything alright?"

Again, no answer.

"What do you have in your hand?" Sara asked, noticing her balled up fist for the first time.

"Does this look familiar to you?" Monica finally spoke, raising the knife she had firmly clenched in her hand up for Sara's eyes to see.

Sara was still confused, but then she realized what this was all about. 10 years ago Jay Edward Stevens had been charged and convicted with the murder and rapes of three women in San Francisco. Sara had handled the case. He was only 19 years old and was quickly escalating into a serial.

His little sister, 11 year old Monica Stevens had been placed in Child Services because her parents were seen as unfit to raise their daughter. Her brother was her only next of kin, and he was in jail.

Instinctively Sara raised her hand up to her left cheek, her fingertips brushing against the skin the girl- now woman- standing in front of her had scratched all those years ago.

"Good, you do remember," Monica hissed, "I apologize for not leaving a scar."

"What do you want?" Sara asked, trying to remain calm. The knife Monica was holding was far-too familiar, giving the saying 'like brother like sister' a whole different meaning. Jay Stevens had used a particular hand-crafted knife for intimidating his victims before he finally slashed them across the throat to silence them once and for all when he was finished. And now his little sister held the same knife in her trembling hands.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Monica hissed, taking a step forward. Sara immediately backed up. "You ruined my life, you bitch! You put my brother away for life, you ruined _everything_!"

"Your brother made a mistake," Sara said, trying to remain calm. Oh why hadn't they covered this in weaponless defense training, "And it cost him. It cost him his life."

"Shut up!" Monica screamed, holding the knife out in front of herself pointed directly at Sara.

Sara bit her lip, watching her body language. Her hands were shaking, and her voice wavered on both anger and fear at the same time. Was she afraid of what she was becoming? "Monica, you don't have to do this," Sara told her, "Just put the knife down, and we can talk."

Monica laughed dryly, "You think we can just have a nice little tea party and everything will be back to normal, huh? You think you can just ruin someone's life and then try and play your little police mind shit to get out of it?"

"Monica—" She interrupted her.

"Not this time!" Monica yelled, walking into the apartment as Sara backed up. Shoving the door closed behind herself, she motioned to the locks with the knife. "Lock the door."

"Listen—"

"DO IT!" Monica screamed, waving the knife at her again.

Cautiously Sara walked around Monica to the front door, trying to keep her mind from panicking as she did what she instructed her. She wanted her to lock the door so she wouldn't leave prints behind. She closed the door with her shirt sleeve so she wouldn't leave behind any trace that she had been there.

"Now what?" Sara asked, keeping her hands up in the air at her side so as not to panic Monica.

"Now what?" Monica repeated her question. "Now you experience all the pain my brother and I had to experience."

After that, Sara's world went black.


	5. Revenge

**A/N: Bum bum bum**

When Sara awoke she immediately let out a groan from the stinging pain in her head that was quickly increasing as she tried to force her eyes open. Making a move to rub her forehead she found she couldn't. Testing her other arm, she found she was restrained from doing so. Then everything came flooding back to her.

The room was dark, only a bit of moonlight was pouring into the room from the windows. Sara looked around only to discover a dark figure sitting in the corner of the room, a flash of silver bringing terror to her eyes.

But before she could panic, confusion set in. It was Monica, she realized and she was pacing back and forth in front of the bed, knife in-hand almost unsure of what she was doing. "I have to kill her, it's the only thing I can do," she muttered to herself.

Choosing not to say anything in response in fear of angering her again Sara looked down at herself only to discover she was half-naked, now plaid in only underwear and her bra. What she was laying on was soft and she quickly recognized it as her mattress in her bedroom. "Monica," she finally spoke.

She jumped obviously surprised that Sara was awake. She thought she had hit her harder than that.

"You don't have to do this," Sara tried to sound calm, "Just let me go and we can talk."

"Shut up," Monica hissed, pointing the tip of the knife at her, "Shut up! You can't just tell me everything's going to be okay!"

"Yes I can," Sara told her, "Because if you let me go you can just walk away from this right now. Like it never happened."

"Shut up!" Monica screamed, getting hysterical. "You bitch! You think we can just forget about everything and suddenly the entire world goes back to normal? You ruined my life! Do you _know_ what they did to me in foster care?"

Probably the same thing that happened to herself in foster care, Sara figured. "I was in the system too," Sara told her, "I know it's not all it's cracked up to be and I'm sorry for that."

"I don't need your pity!" Monica told her, "I don't need anything from you but your life!"

She wasn't getting it, Sara thought. Trying to wriggle her way out of whatever was holding her to the bedposts, she watched as Monica began to advance on her with the knife in her hand.

"This won't bring your brother back from jail," Sara tried to explain, "You'll just go away for your entire life, and then no one wins."

"WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP?" Monica finally screamed. Well Sara had done it now. Her last fuse blown, Monica pointed the knife downward in a violent determination as she climbed onto the bed, getting to her feet.

Sara could've sworn it was the form of her jailbird brother looming over her body. "Monica, think about what you're doing," Sara tried again.

"Stop talking!" Monica demanded, "This is what he wants me to do! My big brother wants it!"

"Is that the only reason you're doing it?" Sara calmly asked, starting to get the picture. When she was younger all she wanted to do was impress her big brother, no matter what.

"He's not supposed to be in jail," Monica told her, finally sitting down on the bed and shooting a glare at Sara. "He didn't do anything wrong and he doesn't deserve it!"

"He's a rapist," Sara told her, "And he needs to be punished for what he did. He knows exactly what he did, and so do you."

"SHUT UP!" Monica grabbed her head, shaking it back and forth, "You're wrong!"

"No I'm not, Monica," Sara pleaded now, "Put the knife down and this'll all be over."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Monica hissed, changing her mind and turning around to face Sara. "I came here to do this and I'm not leaving until I do," she told her, holding the knife over her.

"You don't have to do this!" Sara told her again, watching the knife carefully, "So listen to me! Don't you understand that he's using you?"

That seemed to get her attention.

"That's right, Monica," Sara whispered, looking her in the eye, "He's using you. He's doing this so you don't get to be free. He wants you to be in jail, too."

"My brother loves me, he would never do that," Monica whispered.

"I thought my big brother loved me too, but the second he turned eighteen he left home and left me alone with my abusive parents," Sara told her, "…I know it hurts, but put the knife down… this isn't going to solve anything. It's just going to cause more pain."

"I don't want to cause anymore pain," Monica told her, looking down at the knife in her and.

"I know you don't," Sara told her, "So untie me, and we can talk."

The room was silent for many moments before Monica's grip on the knife began to loosen. Sara felt a wave of relief swarm over her as she watched her slowly lower the knife to the mattress.

Memories flashed before Monica's eyes- her brother being taken away in handcuffs, the social worker shoving her into the car, the hospital staff grumbling to themselves under their breaths as they changed her IVs in the hospital, her foster parents locking her in the closet because she wouldn't stop crying. And Sara. The woman who caused it all.

"No," Monica gripped the knife tightly, "You really are a bitch. You thought you could play me, didn't you? You took my life away and now I'm going to take yours."

She held the knife sideways and lowered it toward Sara's neck, pressing the serrated edge against her skin. Sara tried to control the shaking of her body but was unable to. "You don't want to do this," she whispered.

"I think I do," Monica whispered back. Moving the knife away so she could take care of the task in one steady slash, she stared directly at Sara the entire time. She wanted to see her suffer.

Sara shut her eyes tightly, willing herself to put her mind in a different place like she had done before so many times. This was it.

Opening her eyes quickly only to see Monica start to move the knife again, she did the last thing she could think to do and screamed the name of the one person that was on her mind,

"GRISSOM!"

Moisture. Blood. Pain. And then a voice.

"SARA?"

It was Grissom.


	6. Honey

**A/N: Thank you all for your continued reviews and support :) Grissom's instinct in this chapter actually comes from a personal experience of mine- I was about 7-years-old one time and I was at school after hours with some friends of mine for an after-school activity and I ended up breaking my left wrist. Just as everyone had helped me get back onto my feet I saw my mom in the distance. She said she had a feeling that she needed to be at my school… she couldn't describe it, but it was like her mother instincts were on overload. And boy was I glad she was :) Grissom's boyfriend instincts are now on overload, folks.**

_She was laying there alone, alone in a pool of her own blood that glistened in the moonlight. She was shaking, fighting the effects of her body trying to go into shock. The blood was flowing heavily and freely from the gaping wound in her neck and she gasped as she tried to slow it with applied pressure with her right hand. But she was losing strength much too quickly and her hand grew limp at her side._

_Then, she stopped breathing._

It had been his nightmare that had woke him up. He had woken up and expected to see Sara lying next to him in bed but she was not there. She said she was going to be there after she took a shower and got some more clothes. Had something happened? He knew he was probably being paranoid but he could not stand the thought any longer. If something had happened to her he would never forgive himself.

He sprinted out to his Denali in the clothes he had worn to sleep, forgetting to lock the door and slipping on a pair of brown loafers along the way. His heart was racing and he could feel sweat forming on his forehead and the upper part of his lip. He had never felt like this before, and he wasn't one to trust his gut instinct, Gil Grissom relied on evidence. But right now, something- somewhere, perhaps in the back of his mind- was screaming at him to go see Sara and make sure she was alright. Something was telling him that she wasn't.

_Oh god Gil why did you leave her alone why did you let her go why didn't you go with her—_

He couldn't stop the rapid train of horrible what-ifs in his mind so he pressed on the gas pedal in feign hopes he would arrive at his destination quicker. He could already see it in his head- she was probably curled up on the sofa in her pajamas wrapped in a blanket, reading a cozy novel or forensics journal with a mug of herbal tea on the table next to her. She would get the door and shoot him an annoyed look, telling him that he was far too paranoid and protective and that she could take care of herself.

He just hoped that was the reality of the situation.

After waiting at a red light that lasted far too long he sped off, his tires screeching against the rough pavement as he saw her apartment complex in the distance. Someone honked at him as he cut into another lane but he did not hear them over his own thoughts and the sound of his heart pounding. He parked right in the middle of the parking lot, throwing his door open and leaving the Denali running as he dashed across the lot to Sara's apartment. He felt his blood run cold as he saw there were no lights on outside. Sara always kept lights on outside if she was there. Her Denali was parked right next to the door. She wasn't on her way to his apartment, she must still be here.

He ran to the door and knocked rather loudly, trying to turn the knob and frowning when it wouldn't budge. "Sara!" he shouted her name, pleading that she would hear him, that she would just open the door. When he didn't hear any movement inside, he pounded again. "SARA!" he shouted. He listened closely against the oak door—he heard two voices. One of them was Sara, and the other was most certainly not the Discovery Channel narrator.

Scrambling to his knees Grissom reached under the faded and worn 'Welcome' mat in front of the door and found the spare key. Just then he heard her scream.

"GRISSOM!"

"SARA?" he shouted back, finally getting the damned key in the door. "SARA? HANG ON!" When the door finally budged he practically fell inside as he used all his weight to open it, leaving the key in the door as he sprinted to the room her voice was coming from. The bedroom, he deducted. "SARA, ANSWER ME!" he shouted. He couldn't hear her voice anymore, and it was scaring him more than it was before.

He stopped when he reached her bedroom. The door was cracked.

"Gr… Gris…" she coughed and gasped for breath.

"Oh my god, Sara," he whispered, racing into the room and rushing to her bedside. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly before he noticed for the first time that her body was caked in blood that was steadily soaking into the mattress. He looked up and gasped at the large cut across her neck. "Oh my god, Sara," he repeated, moving her hand away that was applying pressure so he could see it himself. There was too much blood for him to get a good look at it.

"Gri…" she tried to speak again and it broke his heart.

"Don't try and talk honey, okay?" Grissom whispered, moving his hand to press against the wound in place of her own as he reached into his pocket for his cell phone. "I'm going to call an ambulance, just hang on," he told her, punching in the numbers as he looked down at her with wide fear-filled eyes.

"9-1-1, please state your emergency."

"This is Gil Grissom, I'm with the Vegas crime lab," Grissom immediately said into the phone, "I'm at the apartment complex of Sara Sidle, I need immediate back-up and paramedics, we have an officer down!"

"Roger that, back-up is being sent."

"Please…" Grissom whispered, more to himself than anyone as he watched Sara struggle to breathe as she choked on her own blood. "Hurry…"

Sara tried desperately to force herself to speak but the pain was too much and there was too much blood in the way for her to get any sentences out. She couldn't even say Grissom's name. She had to tell him what happened, it was Monica, she was distraught, she jumped out the fire escape when she heard Grissom outside, she was related to the case she had worked all those years ago in San Francisco, she…

Grissom's eyes widened as he felt Sara slipping away. "No, no, Sara you have to stay with me right now, okay?" he asked her, gently tapping her cheek with his palm to wake her up. Her eyes were slowly opening and then slipping closed every second. "Honey I know you're tired but you can't go just yet, I need you to stay with me until Jim comes!"

She forced herself to stay conscious for him, though she was having the hardest time trying to fight the darkness and sleepiness that was threatening to overtake her with each passing second. The pain from her neck had become numb—it felt more like someone was pouring water all over the wound and wouldn't stop then that she was bleeding. She opened her mouth to try and speak again, "Gris… som…"

"Sara, _please_ don't try and talk," Grissom repeated, brushing a hand against her cheek that was slowly losing its color and turning deathly pale. "You can tell me all about it later, but right now we have to make sure you're okay," he added, looking up as he heard sirens in the distance.

"I…" she gasped as dots began to dance in front of her eyes and she tried to shake them away. They couldn't take her yet. She wasn't ready. "I… lo…"

"I love you too, Sara," he whispered, keeping the pressure on her neck as the back up finally arrived. "But stop talking, okay? God, Sara… I just…"

"Gil? Sara?" Jim Brass' voice immediately interrupted them as he ran inside the apartment, gun drawn in front of him. He holstered it the second he saw Sara and Grissom on the bed. "We need medics, NOW!" he shouted. Two paramedics rushed into the bedroom after him with a stretcher.

"You're going to be okay Sara, I promise," Grissom whispered, reluctantly letting go of her hand as the paramedics lifted her onto the stretcher.

"Gil, go with her, I'm going to secure the scene," Jim told him, "Keep us posted; I'll call Catherine and the team over."

Grissom numbly nodded at Brass as he followed alongside the stretcher holding the woman he loved. The paramedics were murmuring nonsense to one another but he couldn't hear it as he kept his eyes glued to her face. Her eyes were looking around wildly, full of fear and panic and pain. "I'm right here, honey," he assured her as they made it to the ambulance. "I'm not leaving you."

"Alright, lift her on three," one of the paramedics said, "One, two, three," they all said in unison as they lifted Sara into the ambulance and jumped in after her, Grissom included.

The ride to the hospital was complete chaos. Sara had an oxygen mask placed over face, smudges and smears from her own blood covering it and she was out from the force of the anesthetic and sedative they had given her. There was an IV being hooked into her arm and the EMTs were talking each other about her vitals on the screen in front of them. Grissom couldn't find his voice and he simply looked down at her prone form sadly, helplessly.

When they arrived at the hospital Grissom was forced into the waiting room which he protested to but was not in much of a state to argue about. He sat in one of the cold plastic chairs with his head in his hands after he saw doctors and paramedics disappear behind the double doors to the emergency room.

What was wrong with people? Why did they do these things? Grissom had never known the answer to these questions but now he wondered more than ever about the answer. Sara had never done anything to hurt anyone in her entire life. She was pure and innocent and was just someone who deserved to be happy. After she had confided in him about her past, about her parents, about the abuse and alcohol, about her horrendous experiences in foster care, he had sworn he would protect her no matter what.

Maybe in a perfect world he would've been able to.

He started to sob for his stupidity, sob for her, sob for how angry he was with himself. How foolish he had been- why did he not insist on staying with her? His shift could've waited. He had never been too keen on letting her stay at her apartment by herself anyways, not after there had been a murder just a few blocks away from her apartment complex. She had insisted it was fine and that she had her gun and Brass on speed-dial. Why had he let her go?

After hours of berating himself he jumped when he heard the doctor calling his name. He immediately got to his feet and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Is she alright?" he anxiously asked him.

"Come with me, Sir," the doctor advised him, waving him over with his clipboard. When Grissom followed, he let out a sigh as he led him down the hallway. "She is stable," he announced. Grissom let out a heavy sigh of relief. "She sustained a significant amount of blood loss however I do not feel that a transfusion will be necessary. The wound on her neck was deep but did not nick any arteries. It could've been a lot worse."

Grissom felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he whispered. "Can I see her now?"

The doctor nodded. "But for only a little while, as she will need her rest. She's still out from the painkillers and sleeping medication and probably will be until tomorrow morning." Grissom nodded as the doctor went through some papers on his clipboard. "We found these, you said you were with the crime lab?" he asked him. Grissom nodded, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the papers.

They were photographs of the wound and they made him want to vomit, however he managed to keep his professional persona in front of the doctor. He saw what it was he was trying to show him. "Hesitation marks?" he whispered. There were about four or five of them, small but still there around where the knife had been resting before the perpetrator made their move, probably with shaky hands.

"That's what it appears to be," the doctor nodded. There was a silence before he motioned to a room behind him. "You may see her now."

Grissom nodded, already walking toward her room. "Thank you."

The doctor nodded, heading off before he turned back around. "Oh, and Mr. Grissom?"

Grissom immediately turned around.

"She woke up at one point and tried to say something," the doctor remembered, rubbing his chin in thought. "We put her back out right away, but I believe it was a name."

Grissom's eyes narrowed. "What name was it?"

"Monica, I believe the name was."


	7. Explosive Conclusions

**A/N: Thanks again to all who have been reading and reviewing, it really means a lot :)**

He sat by her bedside just watching her as she slept. She had been out for a few hours now and as much as he wanted to see her wake up he knew she needed her rest. There was a small oxygen tube running from the foot of the bed up to a small clip where it was positioned in her nostrils. The wound on her neck had been stitched up and covered with a white-gauzed bandage surrounding her neck like a scarf.

He had been sitting there for three hours straight now, almost never blinking and never getting up for a break. He wanted to be there when she woke up, whenever that was going to be. A nurse had handed him a pair of scrubs to wear while his were being processed. He had no idea so much of her blood had gotten on them.

Just as he was about to get up and use him cell phone to call Catherine for an update, he noticed a movement coming from the bed and his eyes immediately glued themselves on Sara's face. Her face contorted into a mixture of confusion, tiredness and then a little bit of pain as she tried to move her stiff body.

"Honey, don't try and move," he told her, gently pushing her back down on the bed. Oh how many times she had heard him say that.

Wait, that meant he was here. But where was she? "Gris…?" she managed to get out, cracking both eyes open painfully. Her mouth was filled with the fowl metallic taste of her own blood and she wanted desperately for just a cup of water. "Wha…"

"Don't try and talk, Sara, I'm here," Grissom told her, pulling his chair closer to her bed until she could see him for herself. "Hang on a minute," he said, feeling around his pockets. He frowned when he remembered he wasn't wearing his own clothes but then he saw the pen and pad of paper on the table next to him. "Here, use this," he instructed her, setting the pad down in her lap and handing her the small pen.

She took it with a shaky hand and she tried to lick her lips, grimacing as she did so as she wrote her message, _**"Where am I?"**_

"You're in the hospital, Sara," Grissom told her, reaching for her other hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Do you remember? I came by and opened the door when I heard you inside."

There was confusion and then a flicker of recognition in her eyes as she started writing another message. _**"How bad is it?"**_

"Honestly, Sara?" Grissom cleared his throat. "Your throat was slashed pretty badly; you lost a lot of blood. The doctor said it didn't nick any arteries. If… if it had… you would probably be dead." Just the thought of it made him shiver.

Her face grew cold and solemn as if she had known that all along and she started writing another message furiously. _**"Did you get her?"**_

"Who, Sara?" Grissom asked.

She shot him a look of disbelief before she wrote something again, practically making a hole in the paper as she underlined it, _**"**__**MONICA**__**."**_

Then everything started to click in his brain and he remembered what the doctor had told him before he went in to see Sara. But Monica was a kid, just a young girl barely in her twenties, she was quiet and she kept to herself. How would she be able to do such a thing? "Are you sure, Sara?" he asked her.

Sara nodded gruffly, simply underlining the name again.

Grissom felt his blood run cold—surely he wasn't stupid enough to hire someone who would ultimately end up trying to end the life of his Sara? "Why?" he asked her. "Why, Sara? Do you know why she did this to you?"

Sara nodded but before she continued she pointed to the sink in the room, motioning with her hand as if she was drinking something. "Oh, of course, hang on," Grissom quickly told her, trying not to look like the idiot he felt he was as he got to his feet and scrambled over to the sink. After grabbing a Styrofoam cup and filling it with tap water he sat back down and slowly lifted it up to her lips, letting her drink it slowly even though she wanted to gulp the entire thing down right then and there.

After she was finally satisfied—as was Grissom with not letting her choke herself—she grabbed the pen and turned the pad over to a new blank piece of paper, starting to write again.

"_**San Francisco."**_

He stared at her in confusion. "San Francisco? What does that have to do with anything?"

She shook her head, pointing the tip of the pen at what she had written, willing him to understand. She knew she wasn't making much sense but it was the most she could do.

"San Francisco… was she at the crime lab where you worked in San Francisco?" Grissom asked, starting to get it.

Sara shook her head again, circling the word 'San Francisco' and writing down another clue. _**"Check AFIS."**_

"But her prints are already in the system Sara, she works for us now," Grissom said, "What do we need to check it for?"

"_**Brother,"**_ Sara replied, underlining that as well.

"Her brother?" Grissom asked. "Check AFIS for her brother…" he nodded, trying to make a mental note. "Is he in the system? Did he do time for something?" Sara nodded and he gave her a small smile, squeezing her hand. "Good job, honey. Just a few more questions and then you can sleep, okay?" She simply nodded and he continued. "Did you handle the case?"

"_**10 years ago."**_

Well that would certainly have given little Monica time to grow up. "Does she want revenge for her brother?" Grissom asked her. Well it was all making sense now. When Sara nodded he was about ready to jump out of his chair and track her down but he stopped when he heard her try and speak.

"Wai…" she hoarsely whispered, pulling him back down into his chair with the remaining strength she had.

"What is it, Sara?" Grissom asked, sitting back down and gazing into her eyes.

Sara was about to try and speak again but she decided to screw it when it caused her too much pain. She reached for the pen and started writing again.

"_**Let Jim handle it."**_

As much as Grissom wanted to wring them both by their necks he didn't want to leave Sara alone or worry her. That was the last thing she needed right now. "Okay honey," he told her, giving her hand another squeeze. He was rewarded with another small smile. "I'm just going to go call Jim now, okay? I'll be right back," he told her, leaning down and planting a small kiss on her forehead before turning and walking out.

After making sure Sara was alright Grissom walked outside to use his cell phone, pacing anxiously back and forth with his phone clenched tightly to his ear. _Pick up, Jim, please… this is important._ When Brass answered the phone it was the last greeting Grissom was expecting. He heard what sounded like crackling electricity in the background and incoherent shouting.

"Jim?" Grissom asked, dumbfounded. "Jim, are you there? What's going on?"

There was some more rustling in the background, some cracks of sparks and then he answered. "Gil, you'd better get over here. A bomb just went off. She wants blood."


End file.
